Heat
by Maddylisse
Summary: Peter Rumancek abhored spring. Why? Well, why else would someone of the animalistic persuasion hate spring, the time where creatures are at their horniest and are screwing like fucking rabbits? Oh, but only female wolves go into heat, you say. Unfortunately, this doesn't apply to werewolves. Who else to help our poor gypsy boy but one Roman fucking Godfrey? Romancek. Slash. NSFW.


**[[ AN: Not sure if Season 1 of HG reached springtime, but that is when this takes place. No, I haven't read the book, so if I describe appearances, it's mostly from what I've seen of the show. HG is not mine in any sense, and all rights go to whoever. ]]**

_**Heat by Maddylisse**_

Peter Rumancek slammed his fist into the side of his late uncle's trailer, creating a sizable dent. Fucking _spring_. No, his mom wouldn't understand, not this. Neither would Letha. God damn it, he wasn't sure even _Casper_ would get this.

Hands trembling, the gypsy extracted a cigarette from his pocket, sliding it between his lips. A lighter followed from the depths of dirty denim, not soon after. The cancer stick was lit, and the Zipo piece of shit was shoved back in his jeans. Inhale. Exhale. The picture of a scruffy, tanned dragon wannabe with smoke curling from his nostrils.

"Fuckin'...son of a..._screw this_," he hissed, pulling out the Trakphone his mother had bought him, given the recent events of tracking the vargulf.

Cracked, chipped fingernails typed out a quick message: _Oi, Godfrey._

It wasn't long until he got a response: _sup u gypsy piece of sht_

Peter rolled his eyes: _Leave it to you to type like a fucking retard._

_haha very funny but srsly wat do u want im bus_y

_I'm having...issues right now. Letha's no help, and you're the only one who would get it, okay? Yes, this is a 'Peter is Acting Like A Fucking Girl' moment. Savor it._

_fine fine ill come get u moms not home neway think shes out w/ shelley again_

_Thank God_.

_c u n 10 pup_

Peter growled low in his throat and shoved his phone back in his pocket, taking a deep, angry drag, nearly making himself cough in the process. Cocky son of a bitch.

He lingered outside the trailer for nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds, only to start at the sound of Roman's car tearing down his driveway. He shook mussed strands from his face. Idiot.

Stuffing his hands in his back pockets, he sauntered over to the idling car, leaning against the hood as the_ upir_ heir exited. The taller male carded a hand through well-kept strands, eyeing Peter suspiciously.

"You look like someone took a piss in your fucking Cheerios this morning, Rumancek."

"Bite me, princess."

"Don't tempt me."

Ice clogged Peter's blazing veins at the words, and how Roman looked at him with those hooded hazel eyes. _Damn_ him. Running a hand through shaggy locks, he kicked the toe of his boot against one of the white wall tires before throwing the passenger door open and sliding in with all the grace a werewolf could have. Hint: it's not much.

Crossing his arms over his chest, he waited for Roman to get back in the Goddamned car and drive off. Drive back to his place, where he could finally take care of this bullshit. It was going to happen, whether either of them wanted it or not.

Not like...Peter wanted it or anything. No one else would understand! Letha would think he was even more of a freak than she was already suspecting, as his mom would shame him into next week. In reality, Godfrey was his only option.

"Tell me what this is about," Roman demanded, casting a glance towards Peter as they sped down backroads with a practiced ease.

"When we get back to your place," Peter ground out, tightening the muscles in his arms to still their trembling. He was so tightly wound...like a spring, ready to snap.

"Was it another killing, or some shit? You're really starting to freak me out, dude," the _upir_ admitted, seeming begrudging.

"S'not that. S'just...werewolf stuff. Mom wouldn't understand, neither would Destiny. Letha is automatically out of the running, too. You're my only friend in this, man," Peter confessed, sounding much more...emotional than he would have liked to. Well, shit.

Roman stared at him for a good moment before turning his attention back to the road. They road in silence until they came upon the vampire's monstrous house, if it could even be called that.

They made their way inside, and Peter was dreading the big reveal more and more as the seconds ticked by. After entering Roman's room, the male in question shut the door, and rounded on the gypsy, "What's this about? You seem really tense right now. What's going on?"

Peter swallowed thickly, and plopped down on the edge of the bed. "Like I said, it's a werewolf thing... In spring, you know the whole deal. Twitterpated and shit. It's the female wolves that go into heat. But, for werewolves...it's both males and females. Something to do with Mother Nature wanting us to reproduce as quickly as possible. Fucking cunt." Peter had been staring down at his hands throughout this whole explanation, watching as their trembling became more and more violent, "I couldn't go to Letha, for obvious reasons. My mom would have my head, and Destiny wouldn't quick teasing me if her life depended on it. You're the only one I got, dude..." His voice cracked slightly at the end, and he felt extreme shame, ducking his head slightly in submission.

Roman was still silent.

Oh, God.

Peter floundered, "B-but it's not like anything's required! I'll just...show myself out." Still without looking at his friend, the gypsy got to his feet and trudged for the door.

Now, Roman hadn't always been quick.

Or, usually, Peter was quicker.

Not this time.

Hands grabbed him by the shoulders and whirled him around, slender digits digging into the flesh as he was slammed against the wall. Peter emitted a soft noise of surprise, blue eyes flickering up to his assailant.

Robin's egg clashed with blue-green.

"You came to me 'cause you got a scratch you can't itch, pup? God _damn_ it, Rumancek," Roman murmured, ducking his head to nip at Peter's pulse.

Any and all thoughts in the gypsy's brain stuttered to a painful, screeching halt. Wait, _what_?

"You don't...hate me?" His voice was small and meek, much to his chagrin. Roman chuckled, darkly.

"Hate you? Fuckin' A, gypsy boy, I've been waitin' for you to come around for months. Then you started hanging out with Letha, and I thought I was shit outta luck. But now...you're here. I don't care if it's just for the spring since Letha can't know, or if it's for an extended amount of time. You're fucking _mine_ for the time being, and I'm not putting that to waste." As he spoke, Roman worked phantom kisses and barely-there bites up and down Peter's throat and collarbone. Peter shuddered beneath him.

"Letha...? She's like a sister to me... I only kissed her so you would notice me," he grumbled, glancing away. Roman's gaze flickered to his face, stare unreadable.

"Seriously, Rumancek?"

"Yeah..."

"Well, let's get this show on the road. God knows you're dyin'." Suddenly, a knee clothed in the tailored pants of an Armani suit jerked upwards, brushing against the painful hard-on already straining through Peter's jeans. So much for subtlety.

The moan that escaped Peter was all Roman needed.

Whirling around, he threw the smaller male onto the bed, already covering him with his larger, yet slender frame. Pianist's fingers worked at the buttons of his flannel shirt, revealing tanned flesh. Full, eager lips bit at and marked the skin that met them, leaving dark bruises and angry welts in their wake.

Peter arched beneath him, shamelessly rutting his hips against the knee that was still firmly planted between his legs. The friction stoked the ever-present heat of spring in his veins and nurtured a roaring blaze of fucking _need_.

The flannel shirt was removed soon enough, and Roman was busy leaving a hickey in the center of the 'g' below his rib cage. Fucker. The only thing pinning him to the bed was Roman's weight, thankfully, so Peter went to work unbuttoning his jeans and sliding them down his hips, along with his boxers. The _upir_ drank in the sight greedily before sliding down the bed further.

Kisses were placed on the werewolf's outer and inner thighs as pale hands gently nudged his knees apart. His arousal, after springing free of its fabric confines, trembled as he did, brushing against his happy trail with every shudder. Roman ignored that, for now. His gaze was on Peter's entrance, and he eyed it like a feast fit for kings.

"Lift your hips up, pup," he murmured. He didn't even have to use his compelling abilities to get Peter to do what he wanted. Squirming slightly, the gypsy managed to do just what the other asked, hips lifting from being flush against the mattress.

Roman grabbed his hips and leaned down, pink tongue darting out to run up Peter's crack. The shorter boy's eyes rolled back. Taking his as encouragement, the vampiric teenager continued his ministrations, even going as far as sticking his tongue inside the other. Peter's first rimjob was mindblowing.

Panting as if he had just run a marathon, Peter fisted the sheets and bucked against Roman's mouth, only to be denied by a tightening of hands on his hips. "Ah, ah. We're not even to the best part." The words, partnered with Peter's slightly-frenzied brain with the prospects of animalistic acts during the spring, made him salivate.

Roman made quick work of his own clothes, already pumping his own length by the time Peter could actually focus on what was being done. He shivered lightly in anticipation.

"This may hurt, Rumancek, but not for long, I promise," Roman whispered, aligning himself with the tightened ring of muscle that signified the entrance to Peter's ass. The trembling teen could only manage a nod.

Roman pushed in with a soft groan, fingers fisting the sheets until he was sheathed fully inside the werewolf. Peter's eyes had rolled back into his head, and his muscles jumped with pleasurable and painful tremors. He only vaguely wondered if Roman had slipped on a condom beforehand. He doubted it. Ah, well, if he gave Peter STDs, he was going to i_get it_/i.

Panting, Roman peered down at Peter, arching a brow, "Just tell me when you're good to go," he breathed. The submissive male offered a quiet noise of encouragement, and Roman slowly pulled himself out, only to slam back in with a vengeance, causing Peter to arch with soft cry. "Good boy, such a good boy," the _upir_ whispered, repeating the gesture again, earning the same result, but toned down a bit.

Peter's thoughts were short-circuited and even the pain of the change couldn't break him from this euphoria. _You wouldn't notice if a bus hit you_, he thought wryly. Said pleasure only intensified only when Roman slammed against the bundle of nerves inside him that Peter could only muffle a scream by digging his canines into the soft flesh of his cheek. Oh, _God_.

"You don't have to be quiet, Rumancek. I want to hear you. Tell me how good you feel. Tell me who's doing this to you," Roman offered brokenly, thrusting his hips flush against the other's again. The vampire's name fell from the werewolf's like a prayer to God, head lolling to one side.

The fire in his veins raged, and for a moment, Peter thought his heart was going to sear from the heat. Briefly, he thought of what Nikolai would think if he saw him now. Probably go into cardiac arrest and die again. The thought was enough to extract a soft laugh from him, cut off by a moan as his prostate was brushed against once more.

"What was that, gypsy? What's so funny, mm?" Roman hummed, peering down at the boy beneath him. Peter shook his head lightly, giving in to the throes of pleasure. Suddenly,

there

right there

_there_, God damn it.

The molten coil of pleasure

winding,

tightening,

_snapping_.

The Romani descendant's vision was blanketed with white as his body arched and convulsed with pleasure, the walls of his entrance tightening suffocatingly around Roman. The latter's eyes widened as his climax was milked from him, coating Peter's insides with his milky hot seed. Peter's seed, however, coated his stomach in thick, sticky ropes.

They stared at each other, chests heaving.

Panting in silence.

_Upir_ and werewolf.

With a laugh, Peter eased himself off of Roman's member and leaned up, wrapping his arms around the other teen. He dragged the naked male on top of him, showering him with kisses and affectionate nuzzles. It had taken the other by surprise, yes, but he returned the sweet gesture without hesitation.

They lay in silence for several minutes, just listening to each other breathe.

Then, the fire reignited.

Peter had Roman's cock lodged in his ass again before he could process what was going on.

It was going to be a long, _long_ spring.


End file.
